Defeat
by ZeDancingHobbit
Summary: In the goblin caves, the company loses a member, and Kili loses his other half. AU. Death!fic.


**I am officially in love with Fili and Kili. And as anyone who knows me knows, those I love I torture. And Fili doesn't get enough whump. This take place somewhere in the goblin caves, I'm not sure where. Possibly after they fall down? I don't know. **

**Disclaimer: As I am not male nor English, I don't own the Hobbit. **

Kili let out a savage laugh, enjoying the thrill of his dagger piercing the skin of yet another goblin. In one smooth motion, he slung an arrow to his bow and fired, not stopping to watch the shaft before he had another one embedded in one of the foul creatures' skull. There was something entrancing about watching his arrows do their work, of getting lost in the dance of battle. Fili warned him against the feeling ("We don't do battle for the sake of killing, Kee. S'not right to glorify the killing. There is no glory in death for the sake of death.") in the past, but sometimes he couldn't resist the rush that came from beating the enemy, the freedom of survival, and victory. He was a conqueror. He was invincible.

He could win.

A glance to the side told him Fili was engaged in his own battles, swinging his sword with a serious elegance. The way he handled that thing could only be counted as brilliant, his feet gliding over the ground as he parried and stabbed. The goblins fell beneath his fearsome blade in droves. His face set in concentration, his mustache and braids swinging, dropping with sweat, he was every bit the warrior that Kili hoped he'd be some day.

He sidestepped a swing of a jagged sword, ducking to the side and coming up behind the vermin. He dug an arrow into its neck, the turned and sent one into the chest of another. Out, in, up, down, strike, dodge, over and over in the dance of death.

Thrilling.

The others were around, battling it out with the goblins. Thorin swung Orcrist with an ease to be envied, so sure of himself even with an elven blade (perhaps, even because of it). Goblins fell like leaves at his feet. Kili knew that with his uncle at their side, they would never lose this fight against the goblins.

As he defended himself against his foes, he realized he had begun to drift away from his brother. Swinging his head around once again, he fought to catch sight of Fili amidst the clamoring mass of odious bodies. There he was, battling a rather large goblin. Kili smirked as his brother disarmed the creature and was about to go for the killing blow when-

"FILI!" Kili cried, terror penetrating his voice as a goblin rose from seemingly nowhere behind Fili, holding a sword aloft. Fili whirled around just in time for the thing to plunge it straight through Fili's chest.

Time slowed to a choppy crawl, as if he was seeing segments of it sliced apart and hastily shoved back together. Sounds were muted, hollow, unintelligible, a tinny whine piercing his ears. He shoved against the wave of goblins that seemed to suddenly all congregate towards him, his dagger stabbing and slicing and killing but not seeming to make any dent against the horde.

Fili fell to his knees, his eyes wide and stricken as his fingers clutched at the sword still stuck in his chest. He grasped it, planting a red hand print on the hilt, and pulled it from himself, releasing a flow of crimson to stain his clothes. His eyes rose to meet Kili's, and Kili realized that he had never seen his brother look so frightened in all his life.

A dim scream registered in his ears, and it was only vaguely that he realized it belonged to him. Anger, grief, fear, tinged his voice and scraped his throat raw. He couldn't stop screaming Fili's name (I'M COMING I'M COMING I'M COMING), over and over and over again. Where was Thorin? Where were the others? Why wouldn't they help him? Fili. Fili Fili Fili Fili Fili.

It seemed that he would never reach his (not dying, never dying) brother, the mass of goblins too think to penetrate. They grasped at his clothes, daggers poking, arrows flying, ready to kill, ready for death. They kept him from Fili.

All hope seemed lost, all chance gone, (Fili will die alone and I will be 20 feet away from him) when he heard a savage roar and Thorin came swooping in, his sword cutting down goblins like wheat at harvest time. He cleared a path big enough for Kili to stomp on the goblin currently grabbing his left leg, sling another off his coat, and run to Fili just in time to keep him from toppling over.

"Shh, shh, shh," Kili stammered, falling to his knees and grasping Fili's coat to keep him upright. Time had snapped back to normal, yet not normal, seeming too fast, too clear, for normal, the sounds too sharp and strange. Fili's chest heaved for breath, a wet, gushy sound coming from within. His pupils darted around, his mouth trying to form words but unable to.

"S'alright, s'alright, you'll be fine, just breath," Kili babbled. Fili's face began to blur, and it was only when something wet began to fall on his cheeks that Kili realized he was crying.

"Kee-Kee-" Blood seeped from Fili's mouth, tiny droplets flying out into the air and dying the tips of his mustache crimson. Kili couldn't hold back the strangled sob that tore from his throat as he carefully maneuvered his brother so that he was cradled in his arms. He planted a hand firmly on top of Fili's, right above the gaping wound, and pressed as hard as he could. Fili cried out and arched as pain arced through him, but Kili held him tighter.

"You'll be all right," he said, speaking so fast his words began to slur together, "you'll be all right just shh I'll take care of you shh shh shh you're all right you're all right."

Fili grasped his shirt with his free hand, holding onto him with an unshakeable grip. He trembled with pain and fear, a single, tiny tear dropping from the corner of his eye to the ground. The sight caught Kili off guard. Fili had always been the one to comfort him, to hold him when he was hurt, to tell him everything was going to be all right. Kili wasn't supposed to have to be the strong one. Fili was the heir, the strong, unflappable, prince. This wasn't right, this wasn't right, this wasn't right.

He didn't want Fili to die.

"You're not going to die," he whispered fiercely, "you're not going to die, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me!"

But Fili didn't seem to listen, because his eyelids began to droop and his head began to loll to the side. Kili caught it in the crook of his elbow, giving him a shake. "Fili!" He screamed, "Don't you dare do this to me! Don't you dare! Stay awake!"

Fili's lips curved up in a smile, his eyes fully closed. His skin was pale, paler than atone, ice cold. "Shh..." He murmured. "Mum'll...no..y'lling in...th' 'ouse...shh, Kee." His hand slipped further down Kili's shirt, now dropped from chest level to below his sternum.

Kili sobbed again and pulled his brother closer. "We're not at home, Fee," he choked out, the words fractured as they came from his mouth.

"Wanna...go...h'me..."

"We will. But you've got to stay awake, all right, Fee?"

But Fili's chest slowed, the rising and falling action turning into nothing but stillness with a soft, terrible exhale of air. His hand fell from Kili's shirt to his chest, his head slumping to the side.

"Fili?" Kili whispered, terror dropping the pit of his stomach out from underneath him. "Fili?" Louder this time, becoming frantic. No no no no no, not Fili, never Fili not Fili please not Fili- "Fili!" He screamed, shaking his brother. "Fili! Wake up! Wake up, damn you, don't leave me like this! Fili! Fili!"

And his brother was silent, allowing his limp body to be thrashed back and forth like a rag doll. And he didn't say anything.

And he didn't wake up.

Fili was suddenly torn from his arms, and there was Thorin, cradling his nephew and feeling for a pulse. On top of the spattered black gore from the goblins, Fili's wound (Fili's blood) left a crimson stain, a stark contrast. Thorin's fingers fumbled underneath his jaw, pressing and feeling. His eyes widened and he gathered Fili to him, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes squeezed shut, he said nothing, grief leaving him unable to speak. Suddenly, he whipped his head around to stare at Gandalf, pleading silently with the wizard for a whiff of hope, anything at all.

Gandalf came forward and knelt by his side, gently feeling for his pulse, roaming his hands about the wound, muttering words under his breath. His hands trembled as he held them above Fili's chest, and a smattering of hope filled Kili for just a second. Maybe, maybe the wizard could perform some feat of magic and bring Fili back.

But Gandalf exhaled, bringing his gaze up to Thorin's with such solemnity, such grief, that hope left Kili as quickly as it had come. The old wizard had tears in his eyes as he murmured, "Even if I did have the power, it is unwise to attempt to bring back the dead. You know that, Thorin." He placed a strong, comforting hand on the dwarf king's shoulder, providing silent support, before straightening and moving away.

"He-he's just asleep, uncle, just unconscious," Kili spoke, soft and quiet and weak. "He's just asleep...right?"

Thorin raised his head and met Kili's gaze, eyes haunted. It seemed that the past thirty seconds had aged him ten years and pressed a thousand pounds of weight on his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"No," Kili breathed, "no, no, you can't just give up on him, he's just asleep no no no no he's not dead he's not dead!" He lunged forward and grabbed Kili from his uncle'a grasp, clutching his brother (not the body, his brother) to his body and away from his cold, unfeeling, terrible uncle (why couldn't he see he wasn't dead?). He sobbed into Fili's hair (why was he crying Fili wasn't dead), entangling his fingers in the braids and golden snarls.

Thorin sighed and fought to his feet. "We must go," he declared, the voice usually so straightforward and confidant now broken, thick. "They will return, more this time."

Kili wiped his face and gathered Fili to himself, attempting to heave him upwards and carry him away. (When had Fili gotten so muscular?) A groan caught between his teeth as he strained, and Fili's deadweight pulled them back to the ground again as Kili felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his eyes to meet Thorin's, and was astonished to find the glisten of tears sparkling within them.

"Kili," Thorin whispered, "we cannot take him."

Kili didn't comprehend this statement for a few seconds. Not take him? Not take Fili? He stared at his uncle disbelievingly. "Wh-what do you mean?" he stammered. "Not-not take him?"

"We cannot take him with us. He-" Thorin paused and looked away, unable to continue.

"No," Kili said quietly, not able to believe what his uncle, the one who had always looked out for them both, was saying. "No, no, no, no, no!" His voice grew in intensity as he railed at Thorin. "We can't just leave him!"

"Kili," Thorin reproved him gently. Unfortunately, the young prince would not be reproved.

"How can-how can you say that? How can you think it?" It dimly registered in the back of Kili's mind that he was shouting at a king, but he paid it no heed. "He's your nephew! He's-"

"He's dead, Kili," Thorin cut in harshly. "And it pains me and grieves me and hurts me to have to do this, but it is for the sake of the company. We cannot carry him, and it will take too long to bury him. The goblins will be back any minute now."

Kili stared at his uncle, aghast at the words coming from his mouth. "Do you know what they'll do to him?" he breathed, tears, hot and stinging, building up behind his eyes. "Do you know what they'll do?"

Thorin didn't reply.

"I'm not leaving him," Kili snarled, "I'm not just gonna sit back and let those-those things get my brother, not just going to-"

"No one else in my company is going to die this day!" Thorin snapped, raising a hand to silence his nephew. Kili's jaw hung open in shock, hot tears falling down his cheeks.

Thorin sighed and raised his hands to cup the sides of Kili's face, pulling him forward until their foreheads were nearly touching. "We have to go, Kili," he whispered, his eyes watery and rimmed with red.

Kili squeezed his eyes shut, pain boiling and twisting in his gut so thick and raw that, left for too long, he had the feeling it would tear him apart from the inside out. He let out a breathy sob, unable to contain it within him.

"Please," he choked out, still clutching Fili, "please don't leave him."

"We must."

Kili shoved him away and buried his face in Fili's chest. "Then leave me," he ordered, his voice muffled in Fili's blood-soaked clothes.

"Kili-"

"Leave me!" Kili shouted, sending the cry rocketing around the caves. Thorin cast a glance at Balin, who gave a sad shake of his head and directed his gaze towards the ground. Thorin looked at Dwalin and gave the slightest of nods, his face pained. The large dwarf stalked forward and knelt by Kili, placing a meaty paw on his shoulder. "Lad," he began kindly, "your uncle's right. 'S'terrible, but it's true. We have to let young Fili go."

"I will not," Kili refused, anger raging in his chest. How dare they try and act as if they could just leave behind Fili, the heir to the throne of Durin, his brother! How dare they act as if it were even possible for him to leave behind his other half?

"Then," Dwalin sighed, "you leave me no choice. I'm sorry, lad." And with that, he pried Kili's arms from around Fili's body, grabbed him by the bicep, and hoisted him off the ground.

"What-what are you doing?!" Kili yelled, twisting and writhing in Dwalin's iron grip. "Let go! Let go of me! Fili!"

He watched as Thorin picked Fili up, as gently as if he were but a newborn baby, and laid him off to the side in a hidden crag where, hopefully, the goblins wouldn't find him. He folded Fili's hands over his chest, laying his sword beneath them, and whispered a few words over him before straightening and returning to the group.

Kili fought and railed against Dwalin, screaming Fili's name and curses and threats, all the while his voice cracking and breaking as tears coursed down his cheeks. He strained against Dwalin, pleading, appealing to his better nature, anything to get him to let Kili go. Why couldn't they see? Fili was his brother! He couldn't leave him, not here, not like this.

Fili couldn't be dead.

"Fili," he choked out, a sudden chill running up his body as they stepped into the sunlight, and something dark overtook his heart.

OoOoO

The Kili that Tauriel met was not the Kili she might have met under different circumstances. Eyes that might have shone with mischief and hope and laughter were now dim, lifeless. There were no cracked jokes, no casual innuendos. He did not stare after her as she walked away, instead gazing off into the distance with such a vacant expression that she wasn't sure if there was any life within at all. And yet, after looking closer, she could see some sort of emotion. Anger. Hurt.

Grief.

As she patrolled the group of dwarfs, uncharacteristically quiet for such a large group, stepping past each individual cell, she came to Kili's. He sat hunched up in a ball, leaning his head on the door and letting his hair cover his face. His thick, small hands clutched a tiny stone with some kind of runes on it so tightly it might as well have been a lifeline. As she watched, a tiny drop of water fell from his face and onto his knee. Such an air of dejection, of sadness clung to him that she felt she should try and cheer him up. Perhaps a bit of lighthearted teasing would draw him out. Perhaps it would distract him from whatever he was feeling.

"Why so sad, master dwarf?" she questioned, humor playing about the edge of her words. She did not expect a serious answer to come forth from him, if he did at all, so she felt no qualms in asking. "You are only in the company of elves, yet you look at if the sky has fallen, or the stars have gone out. You seem as though the world has ended."

To her surprise, he raised his head, blinking past the stray pieces of dirty, sweaty hair that attached themselves to his eyes. Full of anger, grief, weariness, they pierced her with such a haunted stare that she stepped back at the overwhelming sadness within them. "That's because," he whispered in a voice so quiet, it barely touched her ears, yet so loud as to rival the greatest of lions, "it has."

-finis

**Review, please, even if only to yell and throw knives at me. **


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